The A to Z of David and Kevin
by Cannibal Jello
Summary: The (sort of) story of a relationship in alphabetical form. Warning: This story contains SLASHyaoimale x male relationships. Don't like it? Then don't read it.


**Title:** The A to Z of David and Kevin.

**Author:** Not for homophobes. That's all I can say. It's got implied (?) sex..I guess.

**Summary:** The story of a relationship in alphabetical form

**Notes:** Yaoi/shounen-ai/man x man love, aka. It's got the good stuff.

I decided to write something that was simple and _expected_ to be short. Looks like I was wrong.

Read and review. If it's good, I'll continue on my writing path for this audience. If it's not, still review, tell me, and I can agree with you

**Ache**

n. To experience a painful eagerness or yearning

It seemed like a million days, though it had only been two hours since he'd seen him last...two and a half...three...

Minutes had no matter. There was nothing that made them but the torture that made it seem tangible like a thick shadow. He could not hug his second half, couldn't collect him in his arms and hold him. He could not see him, touch him, taste him, face him. He was no more than a waste of space without him, the man being black-haired, beautiful and missing within arms reach.

David King was working. Each moment he was absent, Kevin felt closer to death.

Without him, Kevin worried that he could not survive. It self, and was ridiculous, really, since they were no longer in Raccoon, yet the shadows still laughed darkly. His ears remembered the yells, shouts, and screams of torture that seemed to remain ringing high in the air, though Raccoon was no longer there, anywhere.

Unable to run from it, it felt like the world was unstable all around him, with no voice of reason to reassure him and insure that _he_ wasn't the one who was collapsing or relapsing back into that rhythm of instinct.

His only cure: to hear that soft, yet deep voice of David's, usually so delicate that it could be cut, dissected, divided by whispers…which meant that if Kevin could hear it – oh, how he wished he would – that there was no catastrophe, no chaos, nothing but calmness – what he _needed_ there to be.

Maybe…with his hand walking independently towards the phone that sat with him, that he could call him. Call him, not with a shrieked, but with a wire, the only way he could reach as far as across the city they resided in.

That silent space that divided them was broken by an answering voice, sounding tired, exhausted, and elated, as though their thoughts of each other had been related both in the sense they shared, and the soul.

"David?"

"...yeah, Kev?"

"I…"

"…I know, Kev."

A couple words said…and he was safe again.

**Bite**

v. To seize especially with teeth or jaws so as to enter, grip, or wound.

Kevin loved to bite.

There wasn't a way to describe the pure masculine pride or the feeling of power when he made the body beneath him writhe. Always aiming and claiming any way he could, he would listen to those whimpers, those gentle gasping whines, look at those grasping long fingers fisted into sheets as skin slapped. Each clap of copper against white complexion fueled him, sparked that fire as they drove each other higher and higher with the wings of ecstasy, and then together, dropped down.

Sometimes they mated like wolves with dominant figure mounted. Each and every time, the craving was too stark and always too dark to see through. When they fell, hands alone didn't have the strength to hold and so, lowering his upper half, Kevin felt his fangs follow the sinking sensation.

David was often left with deep wounds - the sign of need, as well as greed engraved into shoulder or side of neck. And sometimes…his hair would be taken into a hand harshly and tugged, head reined to the right for the harsh bite to descent on his bronze skin. Always, it was the sign of Kevin, created in a crescent shape.

Most often, the red, intimate imprint resembled a celestial symbol, the moon.

It was there every night.

**Camera**

n. Apparatus for taking photographs or television pictures.

"Kevin, what're you doing?"

"Taking your picture..." Kevin raised the camera to his eye again, zooming in on the bump of David's hipbone. He watched it come into focus and licked his lips, his finger above the shutters release.

David shifted, lifted himself on his elbows to look down at Kevin's face, his own expression amused. "I'm not even dressed."

"I don't want you dressed for these."

There was a soft click and whir as Kevin took the picture. He shuffled along David's bronze, beautiful body until he was knelt above his feet and then leant forward, lowering the camera onto his lover's belly before he paused, setting the timer.

"Bored already?"

Kevin's grin widened wolfishly.

"No. I want to get me in this one."

**Dead…**

Adj. No longer in existence, use, or operation

How long had they been running? Since Raccoon, they'd stayed sprinting, squinting into the sunlight that continued to rise from the horizon like a blood red beacon with a thousand different tones of color chasing it through the sky, only to disappear when it was night. It was as if the horizon were escaping the embrace of hell, which had red, reaching limbs, attempting to achieve the light - but to no avail.

David's silver saw the same glowing globe that Kevin's sapphire knew swell. What they weren't aware of was the orbs of destiny stolen by the daylight, deciding the direction they traveled in. In the end, their fates seemed star-crossed.

They seemed to be embossed in one another, as though something always came to smother the air and hold them breathless below the illusion of immersion in water - Kevin when David let down his hair, David when Kevin simply laughed, both of them when they were together at times. For all the time that the darker of the two had spent alone within the shadows seemed to be worth the wait and hate he'd felt without the welts of wounds he'd expected if he'd ever allowed someone to invade his secrets as Kevin would soon do. But it hadn't been that. It hadn't been torture, because both had taken the same steps, following the same, right rhythm that was all too fear for him to feel, even -him, David, to be unable to feel it as he did without will. He was unable to kill the unusual urge to continue the discovery of himself in another person's eyes.

Sometimes, it scared him.

As a cop - _ex_, Kevin had to remind himself , Kevin found himself naturally curious. It made sense that he'd see a stoic man and instantly want, as well as _need_ to understand what the human that was behind the hollow expression within the body was really like.

It was a goal of his to make everyone laugh. Personally, he loved too and did very easily, very often. How could it be that a man could look at him and make his mind instantly scatter to the corners of him only to spontaneously combust? And what was the sensation that afterward, made him feel soft, warm, and fuzzy?

It must have been something he ate.

When it felt funny, Kevin knew he didn't find it humorous at all. Kevin was also a cop who didn't like to be confused. He wanted to see all the facts, which failed to explain why he worked for the government. Or _did_, once upon a time.

Nothing could be completely clear, Kevin knew, and he was no where close to answering any questions of his own. Each began with why, why, why? Or had before _him._ Now, the words weighing down the tip of his tongue were who? Who are you? You're David King, but _who_? Who could you be? And another, what is it I see that makes you so interesting, so intriguing?

Kevin had invested time in dissecting the evasive, abrasive David King. He first tried with his tongue, talking as they drank…or David did, while Kevin watched as if oblivious to the man's expression of don't talk to me and don't touch me.

By the end of the night, Kevin had overcome both barriers, climbing up and over them like he had the tires and the wooden wall like those that had been in the RPD obstacle course. It only took three large running strides for his fingers to reach the edge and the end. It was part of his personality – and his charm, he hoped, as well as liked to believe – that whatever he got his hands on, he never let go of.

That included a particular antisocial plumber.

The night had been slow. David made no sound. Over half the time, he had watched the wide screen TV over one of Kevin's even broader seeming shoulders dressed in the tight white of a tank top. Both where blue jeans, though David's were thinner and longer like his legs when Kevin was thicker, wider…

He would _not_ let that trains of thought travel any further. The figurative stop sign was held up in Kevin's head, wondering why the green of GO! didn't show when a busty blonde brushed passed, pursing her pink lips in invitation. Well…whatever.

Many may have assumed that after all the two had been through, that a bar would have been the last place they wanted to see. Then again, it's always where the liquid is. And it sure as hell beat sitting in the cracked-walled, crack _whore_ and cockroach infected motel rooms they'd paid twenty per week for.

Cheap. Right. Like everybody was.

Perhaps the plumber gradually became more interested in the entertainment system and the three men who had started smacking peanuts against their foreheads to crack the shells than what Kevin had been saying. Hell, that made two of them. Not even the ex-policeman had paid any attention to himself.

He felt his tongue falter and finally fall flat, just like that thick bundle of black hair that slid passed the plumbers purple clad right shoulder, shining and so healthy, so heavy and shadowy against the shine of the lights. And so sensual.

The movement seemed slow to Kevin, who stared with widened sapphire eyes. Tantalized, one oblivious hand slid to touch in ominous onyx. There was so much of it to tangle through his fingers, so much dense darkness to dip his digits in…it was so soft, too, completely devouring Kevin's white hand.

David, who had been sitting still, watched the screen but felt even more attention as Kevin gripped the rubber band to release the elastic embrace of ebony and allow himself to fill his hand with the spill of it, of the passion that poured into one open palm that closed around the charcoal whole locks.

He'd done something stupid. By he, did it mean Kevin or David?

Both.

…**End**

n.The point in time when an action, an event, or a phenomenon ceases or is completed; the conclusion

Kevin Ryman had spent the rest of the early evening icing his swollen nose even if the encounter also left him with a whole more enjoyable and erect excited swell that he also eventually stroked away...all eight inches of it.

David King was definitely something. He was hard with eyes and lightly accented with smooth muscle covering copper colored silken skin, as well as soft hair. He had striking silver eyes that were lined in long ebony matching lashes that didn't seem entirely male. Everything about him was unreal – both Indian Native American nature, as well as his Italian attitude.

At times, that stoic face was struck by either the fire of sex or it was collapsed from a chronic depressive complete that had made its impression at all until that night.

It had been November. Kevin, half-naked, had been wandering around, bored out of his mind. In ten laps, he'd traveled the whole hotel building that they'd been in at the time. He'd turned corner after corner, cigarette tip lit held between his smirking lips as he bit the end between his teeth to chew as an anxious habit.

_Anxious_, he had asked himself, _of what?_

Kevin dropped to a stop before that silent door, and he _knew. _

As if he could see through the solid barrier, as if it were no more shadowed than the tropic waters of the seas, Kevin felt like he stood at the edge of the tide. If he looked down, he could see his reflection staring back at him but instead of there being reddish brown hair, there was black. So much black. The skin tone was also different, Kevin discovered, though he'd already know, _known_, had been aware when he opened the door to let himself in where there was no light, where they was only darkness.

David had been but a shadow in the gripping black while Kevin's white complexion acted as a ghost around him, made of him. There was little he was able to see of the unstable man, unable to ignore the rain of pain rejected and poured from red, sore, swollen eyes.

Kevin didn't even know that he'd made the move – that he was aware he'd ceased the leaking crimson creases from being created, from secreting until the sensitive skin of his thumb, as well as the rest of his fingers, felt that powerful throbbing pulse. The wounds were sobbing like he wanted to because he was confused.

It was so wet, so warm the only way blood could be against his hand wrapped around slim wrist.

David's eyes were as dark as the black that gleamed with a tinge of red along its length, yet the living silver held a strength that surpassed that of man molded out of titanium. There were so many shades and tones of metals that made the man – from the copper skin, silver of eyes – so clashing against Kevin's pale creamy skin.

David's nearly looked lighter with shock, silver widening, so naked like the chest that crosses had been born against with the smoothness torn by crimson cuts.

Had Kevin been horrified that the man would have died by suicide if he hadn't flung the folding knife into the darkness instinctively…or had he been surprised by his own soul-deep concern?

His voice was both soft and almost dancing on the edge of the difference of that and being afraid. To top it off, he had to ask the dumbest question ever, which made Kevin kick himself mentally.

"Are you all right?"

Perhaps David didn't need to hear his words. Perhaps the plumber didn't need _him_, but god, he'd gotten it anyway.

Kevin was shocked that, when he walked from the room a moment later to find supplies to treat him with, that David didn't run away. He did look reluctant to stay when Kevin returned; yet the man who he'd survived with – maybe because – had earned an answer.

Kevin stroked aside the acrid acidic dampness as he ached with the wounded man who had by his own hand, who someone had strung and hung them both together with his own ominous hurt. He heard David say softly, "I don't think I can go on anymore…"

Kevin replied, replacing the thick crimson cloth with white bandages that he pressed against that bronze chest, "You can. I know you can."

As if they'd seen the sign between them, sensed it in each and every soft, affectionate touch, they knew that they moved down the same path, the same street that began to look much like a dead end.

But…at least, besides each other, they'd reach the end of that road together.

**Fetish**

n. Inanimate object worshipped by primitive peoples; principle etc. irrationally reverenced; (Psych.) abnormal stimulus, or object, of sexual desire.

Someone grunted suddenly in the shadowed room, the only sound being of baited breath and the brush of bare skin against skin. It was Kevin who spoke first. "Call me old-fashioned-"

"You _are_ old-fashioned," interrupted David, voice muffled by the sheets he was buried under. "Or just old. And not fashioned."

A short scoff followed by a feisty kick of Kevin's foot. "Very funny. Let me finish... What I was going to say that I think this obsession you have with feet is a little... Odd."

"Not any feet," David told him, running his tongue over the bumps of Kevin's toes that curled and trembled as he chuckled in response, rubbing his lower lip along little one to tickle, tease, and please. "Just yours."

"You're strange."

"Oh, really? And what about yours with bulls?"

Kevin's voice quaked slightly as his stomach quivered with each sensation stealing, feeling suckle at five tips. "That's different."

"But you like it…"

Voicelessly, Kevin nodded, then groaned as David's mouth closed around his big toe.

He loved it.

**Gasp**

n. Catch breath with open mouth as in exhaustion or surprise; utter with gasp(s).

Kevin loved that little sound of surprise when he did something David didn't expect. Like waking him up with freezing hands and burning lips.

That day was warm, so he eased himself out of bed and crept down to the kitchen.

Ignoring George's remarks he grabbed the ice-tray from the refrigerator. Alyssa was leant against the patio doorway, watching Kevin with interest. She didn't say a word, though, just gave a knowing smile as Kevin headed back upstairs.

David had moved to lie flat on his back, but was still fast asleep and oblivious.

Oh, yes. This would be worth it.

**Honey**

n. Sweet sticky yellow fluid made by bees from nectar collected from flowers; color of this; (fig.) sweetness, sweet thing, excellent thing or person.

"Morning..."

Kevin moaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. David sat at the end of the bed, balancing a tray on one hand and holding out a rose to him in the other.

"You're far too lively for this time of day," he mumbled, taking the rose with a puzzled raise of brown brow. "What's this for, anyway?"

David leaned a little closer, curling against Kevin's side like the piece of puzzle he was, fitting perfectly with each dip and dive of muscle with little to no divide. "Because I love you. Besides, you can't complain. I brought you breakfast."

"Romantic idiot." Kevin took the tray and David watched, silver eyes sparkling as he took in the contents. The plate of toasted muffins, the jar of honey... The blindfold.

Wolfishly, David's mouth curled as he leaned into Kevin who shuddered when that tongue softly swirled behind the shell of sensitive ear.

"I say we forget the muffins."

**Insatiable**

Adj. Incapable of being satisfied

Hands, everywhere, over him with no way of stopping each needy, greedy touch. It was almost too much, how mouths moved, biting him, igniting both of their fires that caused them to perspire, to come together as a single tingle of embers as they embraced.

Pressing, dressing, it was hot when both men were caught in the instinctive wind of intercourse. When the tide thrusting through their voracious veins began to ebb, they were quick to grow again. Sometimes, they lasted all day, leaping like a lion in on its pray. Other times, it lasted all night. Most commonly, they could have seen both in a single session, if they could view anything else but the sheen over eyes caused by each other.

David King was insatiable.

"Kev, I'm cold."

He always had an excuse, though he could barely speak it aloud with his excited, bated breath. The short of the two, who was thicker and build, was always the one to tease, laughing lightly at the man who clawed at him for release from clothes and seemingly steaming skin.

Kevin kicked him away with a chuckle, watching him roll and knowing, all too well, that he'd come back. David always did.

"Then get a coat."

Fingers thrust themselves beneath his cotton undershirt stole Kevin's senses for a split second as David crawled atop him, unable to stop him with arms that twitched to take him between them – traitors to his will – needing, like the rest of him, the fill of flesh and tongue.

The slim man was over him, straddling his sides with clutching thighs when that dark hair, so opposite to the hands oblivious to Kevin's hardness, yet knowing every dip and curve, felt so soft against his skin as digits dwelled. The plumber was practically clawing him to pieces, stretching cotton as his digits combed through damp chest hair, Kevin knowing damn well that the crisp brush only made him swell, tightening his stomach to make him harder.

Sometimes he was so wicked, so wild, that David waited for him to rip his shirt, skin, and bite until they were both red with blood. But David rarely did – unless there was a mutual expectation between mates. Though it was underlying, both men still understood that it was there now, as it always was. Kevin could never ceased to be amused how David would whine or whimper for him.

Thin digits tugged at the barrier between e

**Join**

v. Put together, fasten, unite, (things, one to another)

David often thought that it might look kind of ridiculous, the way that he and Kevin arrange themselves when they made love. Sometimes, with his copper calves resting on Kevin's solid, diamond-capped shoulders, his feet in the air as their hips pressed together when and where their bodies joined.

David adored seeing Kevin's face, likes to watch his lips mouth words that only he was allowed to hear.

Most of all, what was best was when Kevin kissed him just as he moved, pulling out. The two of them lose one connection, but immediately make another. And when his lips were gone, his hands are always there.

**Kiss**

v. To touch with the lips especially as a mark of affection or greeting.

Kevin was surprised by the intensity of David's kiss. It sent a swift pang through him, causing him to clutch, to keep touch with more than just mouth. It would never be enough. Dark, delicious, devious, David tasted him thoroughly, his tongue caressing, demanding that he respond.

He did. Fingers were found, tangled in his thick hair, glossy and gorgeous, warm as he weighed and perfect for that pristine face. The long ebony locks made Kevin's heart race, harder each time, had his digits diving deeper, striving for more of that precious pore of silk, refusing to let him stop. Kevin was filled with the spicy dark smell of him.

Christ, he was craving and passion combined, personified, unable to be defined and unstable if he was to let David go.

Kevin did for a second though to pull back and gently bit full lower lip, causing David to gasp and capture his mouth again with his own. Both were raw and sharp, rich and throbbing with life. Kevin was sweet blood after a long hunt, powerful as Kevin pulled David over his body to press him into the oblivion of the mattress. Eager hands explored chest, shoulders, and face.

No. Neither of them could let go.

**Laconic**

Adj. Using, expressed in, few words.

Pain shot up his spine as he was slammed against the bedroom door. The impact was barely noticed. Not when Kevins's kisses were so desperately, so deep and sensual, when his hands were shoved into the back of David's jeans, pushing him up and against that broad body. _Need you_, say his hands, squeezing. Panting, bated breath punctured the air like a needle of driving desire.

_Take me_, he answered, pressing hard against Kevin. After that, their mouths parted for just a moment, breaking the seal of taste and sliding, hiding tongues in one needful moment when they could gasp for and grasp for dire air. One of them asked, where.

David wasn't sure who spoke. He only heard what Kevin's body was saying to him. It would always be enough.

**Memento**

n. Object serving as reminder or warning, or kept as memorial of person or event.

David was not amused as he grabbed Kevin's arm that had been flopped over one arm of the couch in front of the TV to tug him into the bathroom.

Pointing to the ground, David stabbed a finger in the direction of the offending mess. Toenail had missed the trashcan; some even scattered besides the sink and to the right of the bathtub. What had it been, a war zone?

Kevin looked at David questioningly, being accustomed to the mess.

"What's that?" David asked, practically growling.

Smiling, he said, "... Souvenirs?"

Still, nothing could change David when he scolded Kevin like he was a child. "Oh? Planning on leaving, are you?"

"No."

"Then what do I need souvenirs for? Clear it up. It's disgusting."

"I-"

"I'm sure there're more hygienic ways for me to remember you."

"For example?"

David tapped his bare foot with the dent in the soft sole made by a nail shard. "Don't try and change the subject."

"Yes, but... For example?"

**Nipple**

n. A corresponding projection of the male breast.

There wasn't one part of David that Kevin didn't love to kiss, to lick or bite – that didn't ignite his unwavering, favoring desire. But he did have his favorites, such as soft, full lips, fragile hips perfect for his palms and fingers, white holding hands as a whole…

And both of the steel rings hung from small delicate, delectable nipples. Who had thought that a plumber of all people would have them pierced? Not Kevin, he'd never have known if he hadn't ever seen the man naked. Then again, David wasn't at all typical in any way,

_Thank God_, Kevin thought as he toyed with two delicious dark dangles that dropped from the holding touch of his thumb.

He focused on the little tip to the left. When he took it and shook it with his tongue to see it tinkle wetly, he felt the resulting shiver run down David's spine and through his skin as the silver quivered both in his eyes and through the pierced, sensitive sharp peak that turned slightly pink with sensation.

David sat up from where he'd been lazily, nearly lethargically sprawled naked on their bed, to press one palm against the back of Kevin's head to push him away half-heartily.

Kevin pressed a quick kiss to the pebbled peak before he was raised by the will of that patient, yet impatient man.

"Don't you like to have them played with?"

Kevin knew as much as David how he did – how _they_ did, together.

David said, smiling softly at that arrogant smirking face. "I do, but..."

Kevin was a manifest of male pride, both because he was a policeman – as well as an American cowboy at heart. "You should have had them done for me."

David chuckled. "I did."

"Did not..." Kevin murmured, moving his mouth down naked chest.

The darker of the two raised one perfectly arched brow. "Well I would have, if I knew the future."

Kevin bit one tip of bronze-brown nub; nuzzling it like he did that think neck that he tasted with his tongue afterwards, moving to settle himself comfortable between bronze lean legs. "You know you did it for me."

Really at that time, David hadn't known anything. He never did when he was so damn drunk at any time. He'd spent that night half-naked much like he was now, with two empty bottles of liquor and one shot of everclear.

He should have never left the house.

Hell, David hadn't started there. He'd begun his journey at J's Bar, drinking because he was bored. And then he'd made the mistake of paying attention to some giggling girls across the bar. They'd stood and pulled the plumber from his stool by his arms, using his legs to take the three of them to a parlor. No, not to chop off his ponytail – he thought later that that was probably why they found him so cute – but to another kind all together.

It still amazed David that he had left without a tattoo.

Instead, he came home with two very, very painful, very violently hurting nipple rings that he still had – most likely because he'd been too traumatized by the thunderbolts of throbbing touches when he'd been too tender to take them out when he tried only once.

Kevin played as though he wanted to with his tongue as he stabbed and grabbed the warm silver with a pink tugging wet tongue before he pressed a hugging kiss of lips to them, one after the other.

David guessed he was glad that he'd kept them, wondering if he should have thanked the girls – whoever they'd been – for giving him something that Kevin found so much delight in.

Maybe they hadn't been a mistake…or maybe, like the man as a whole, they were made for Kevin just as David was.

**Obstacle**

He'd done a terrible, terrible thing.

His own body had betrayed him, while David's senses had discovered the scent - that of someone else on Kevin, as he'd move close for a closed-mouthed kiss. It was a woman. _Had_ been, though she hadn't been anything ever. She was nothing now, had never been more than a body, a lie to his love.

But how could he explain it, or even face those eyes he felt he'd disgraced - that he had, including his own?

Kevin was incapable of answering the sudden swarm of questions that he had asked himself, which meant that it would be impossible to tell his mate. The difference was the raping, escaping, upset voice of David was different, and the inquiry was rhetorical, as he'd never believe the first word fed to him, as well as the eighth, or that at the end.

"How could you!"

Crying, he was crying, those eyes red, face too...if Kevin could have seen it. His mind screamed, _he won't even LOOK at you_!

David didn't, no, didn't because he was broken with his water-wet face collapsed in pain.

The door that hit his hands was thrown inward as David followed through, thrusting his feet forward before bringing his body back with a wracking, smacking sound of it slamming shut - ramming right in Kevin's face, or damn close - closed.

"David!"

His own cry was a collection of anger aimed at himself and weakness that his fists showed as they pounded at the door. It felt as if there was a shadow rising from the floor, surrounding ankles before biting above. The star had fallen, no longer lighting his world. No, it was waiting for it, for its return, needing David as it since their relationship was - had been - so symbiotic.

Kevin brought up a powerful boot and kicked the door, hard, nearly throwing David off of it as he held himself against it. It was loud when his voice, lifted by worry, by torture as though his tongue was hung, shouted, "Stop it!"

A second slam had been his answer. As if it hadn't been enough, Kevin answered, "No!"

Thrusting, thrusting, not of sex but reflex, Kevin gave rhythmic rams. With each and every one, there was a responding slam, the door abused as the man on either side of the barrier beat at it.

Again and again, the plumber nearly pleaded, "Knock it off, Kevin!"

Kevin didn't quite know the words that were said, didn't understand them because he had no need to. He was too desperate, too determined to keep David, because he knew that it was what he needed to do.

Violence of anger absent now from panic, Kevin ceased his kicking, his pressure and power suddenly fallen like his face. The wood was frozen against the fevered skin of his forehead. Did his heated breath condense against it? He was wet with a cold, frightened sweat, yet everything was dry besides David's face. That fact hurt Kevin the worse - more than his death would without David.

"No, David...I can't. I need you."

Did the truth ever hurt?

Both men could sense that together, they wanted to believe...as if they could hear the hitch of how they breathed in hope.

Finally, that voice, swollen with the throat that contracted after crying, that threatened to take both speech and air away, said softly, "...I don't know what to do."

But they did. When David stepped back and allowed Kevin in within the darkness of the room, they simply, seamlessly came together. With soft touches and wet kisses, Kevin wrapped around David as if he'd discovered the world, as if he would die if he didn't or wasn't.

No longer was there a woman who lasted not even a night. There was a lover far and forever, which lasted as long and even further than the span of eternity.

**Persist**

v. Continue firmly or obstinately (in opinion, course of action, doing) esp. against obstacles, remonstrance, etc.

"I don't think this is a good idea," David mumbled, looking over strong shoulder, tightened with the threat of touch. Easily, Kevin ignored him, one hand firm against his friend's head, thumb stroking the soft curves of his ear as he pulled David down and kissed him.

"Why not?" He murmured, drawing away.

He began, but Christ, he couldn't breathe. "We're friends. I don't-"

Cutting David off, Kevin kissed him again with a practiced press and slip of tongue, the grip of it over the second one within panting, parted lips. David wasn't fighting back. He even moaned quietly when Kevin's other hand tugged his shirt from his jeans and slid underneath the cotton to curl tightly around his waist.

It made him whimper when Kevin said, voice so throaty, deepened with desire. "That's why it's perfect."

He couldn't agree more.

**Quiver**

v. Tremble or vibrate with slight rapid motion.

"Fuck! Stop, please... Fucking stop..."

David's protests turned into keening cries as he pushed his body up, away from the mattress toward Kevin's mouth that milked and massaged. When Kevin obeyed and moved, he gasped in surprise when David grabbed his shoulders, hauling him back down.

"You told me to stop," Kevin panted, breath hot and moist on shivering, quivering, shimmering skin.

"Don't... Fuck..." David shook beneath him, quaking with need and with arousal.

_Helpless_, thinks Kevin. And his, he knew.

Again, he moved to nibble on sweaty flesh, to flick a teasing lick across nipple, listening to the sounds this elicits from his lover. Then Kevin pushed back against the trembling hands in his hair so he could watch, as well.

**Razor**

n. Instrument with sharp edge(s) used in cutting hair esp. from skin.

Like the matching mist, one man rose early every morning, travelling slowly from place to place before he settled at the sink within the bathroom.

Kevin always awoke to the sound of the splashing water, the crashing of clean effervescence of liquid crystal spilling and partially filling the basin. It was his cue, his encouragement to raise from the sheets that were scented with sweat, not just from the night, though the previous, they'd been freshly wet from…well…

Kevin's grin was arrogant as he strode towards the door that was cracked just a bit, not needing an invitation. No, because David always invited him in. If it wasn't with trembling thighs or hands, then it would be with lips. Later. Neither of them enjoyed the taste of lather.

He was surprised, when he stepped into the small space, that nothing was used on that face. Truthfully, there wasn't much there but the towel hung loosely from around lean waist, where the glitter of dampness accented each artistic dip of skin that Kevin gripped, just above either hip.

Kevin Ryman rarely shaved, and never did entirely. It was easily understood when he pressed a kiss to soft shoulder, kneading with broad fingers, lips, and lashes, that both knew which way Kevin was best. A man such as him could have the stubble that just seemed to fit his handsome face.

As for David, who was bent slightly over the sink, watching with undying intensity as his hand moved, he always insisted that he be kept clean. Sometimes, he let a shadow pass for a day or so since his stubble grew slowly. Apparently that morning, it had been too much.

Feathery lashes fluttered at the touch of caressing fingertips. Kevin saw over copper shoulder as he continued to kiss before finally resting his chin against that darker skin.

Kevin knew himself to be a man who found the most mundane interactions the most interesting, like the lick of light along the blade that made soft scraping sounds with each sweep of knife from throat to chin.

The man used his folding knife for everything, except to kiss Kevin when he turned his head to the side, razor held redundant for a moment under the glittering rush of water, so that he could brush lips to matching masculine lips.

Kevin loved mornings like this.

**Shower**

n. A bath in which the water is sprayed on the bather in fine streams.

Few knew that David King sand in the shower while he watched. It had been until that day that it had been a secret kept to himself…until Kevin arrived at home early from shopping.

As he stepped into the door and through the living room, he heard it: a velvet voice. Vocals to a song shifted through the sound of falling manmade rain, free of pain but full of happiness as it sifted from the frame of the door and lifted itself to Kevin's knowing ears.

Prince. That was another adoration of the plumbers that took a relationships worth of exploration to discover. Who would have thought that the stoic tough guy could sing something as sweetly?

Kevin smiled in thought as he opened the cupboard, lips curling further as he passed fruits into the basket, organized boxes on the shelves, planning more that just that in his mind as behind him, he heard it, felt it cause a fire to start low in his stomach. It made his blood simmer before it boiled with each word.

_Do me baby, like you've never done before. Do me baby, 'til I just can't take no more…_

Kevin knew when the wolfish twist kissed his lips as he hummed along to the song though he didn't really know it. Once upon a time, he'd had the same thoughts about David. But oh, how he knew him, certain he'd seen each curve of both body and mind as he felt his feet swerve, beginning to walk to that bathroom.

_Do me baby, do me baby all night long._

_Yeah_, Kevin thought. _I'll do him._

And he did.

**Teddy**

n. (bear), child's toy bear.

Nervous couldn't begin to describe what David felt as he sat perched on the edge of his – their bed to be – watching when Kevin crouch on the floor and open up his bag. It was the first night they would spend together, away from anyone else. The first time they would wake up with each other. He was terrified that he would do something to fuck it all up.

"Hey..."

David looked up from his shaking stare at the ground, eyes more silver than gray, softening only when he found himself staring into Kevins's concerned cobalt eyes.

"You okay?" He asked, so softly.

"Mmhmm…" The plumber answered, tongue too thick to talk with and twisted in knots because of Kevin.

"Here."

Something landed in David's lap with a soft thud. A one-eared, sandy-colored mohair something. Kevin laughed quietly. "And to think, I brought that for _me_."

**Unfetter**

v. To set free or keep free from restrictions or bonds

The air was thick, so shy from being tangible. Perhaps, if he could move the littlest bit, if his legs weren't locked to the bed by his ankles and each hand wasn't bound above his head, that he would have tried to touch it. Still, he doubted that he could have done anything but stare after what David had done to him.

Kevin was still in heaven.

A hook of heat still caught his stomach, sliding into and through his abdomen as an invisible, irresistible hand drew the deep incision across, snaring all of his senses in the reminiscence of touches, smells, and pleasure so intense that it could dance along the threshold of pain...and had even gone beyond.

Some people believed that what they'd just done would be wrong, yet David, who lapped at the final droplets of his pleasure, his treasured worth in white, grinned even as Kevin shuddered in the aftershocks. The amount of ecstasy that lingered with each long lick and flick of tongue was almost unreal, nearly too much to feel since he seemed so numb now.

Seeing him so sated, David let his fingers toil with the coil of leather straps that hung thick-thigh legs up, watching them drop before his bronze form moved along that strong masculine body still splayed below him as his fingers played across broad pecs.

Kevin still made him feel small every time except that when they kissed. Then, they were equal, both so whole with each other.

Kevin was full with feelings, still reeling as he saw that sinful silk black slide across his skin, followed by flaring, staring silver. It looked like liquid onyx, melted and poured to fill each crack of muscle making his shaking, chiseled chest that had been forced to the barrier between man and killing machine.

That angel above him smiled when the blood still rolled and returned to Kevin's hands as his white, wide wrists were unfettered.

He hadn't regretted what he'd done. Neither had David. Not once.

Perhaps the plumber who had straddled his stomach again shared his hunger even then, as though they did their CANDID thoughts. David wasn't alone with his insatiability. No, it was evident when Kevin demanded, hands suddenly slapping, clapping to thin copper hips as he drove David down with a guttural growl, "Ride me."

**Vigil**

n. Keeping awake during time usually given to sleep, watchfulness.

His heart was pounding and he didn't know why. It was ridiculous, the way he was feeling right now. Kevin lay beside him, fast asleep, his fingers twitching as he dreamt. The teddy bear he'd brought was sat on the nightstand besides him. He had jokingly turned it to face the wall, saying what they had been doing was not suitable for a soft toy's eyes.

David watched him sleep, resisting the urge to wake him or to stroke his hair from his forehead. He tried to calm down, to relax, but couldn't.

He didn't want any of it to be a dream.

**Whisper**

v. To speak softly with little or no vibration of the vocal cords especially to avoid being overheard

The darkness seemed delicate, so much that it could be simply assumed that the typical, casual volume of voice would break it, take it, and twist it so that it would be warped, never to be the same again.

During the day, though the sun might shine - it might not, making the time of the night seem longer - individuals still had their secrets. Sometimes, said secrets were shared between bodies, kept close, mouth-to-ear by a couple near. Tongues moved, soothed with little sound while the words could mean so much and be so large, so loud, either lustrous or loving...

...Or laughing as two people joked amongst themselves about the third person - who had sat some few feet away. This man had a natural need to invade people's privacy, especially Kevin's who kept his game face close as David pitched his initially soft voice so low it was barely audible.

Jim, glaring at the terrible twosome, suspicious that they were talking about him, narrowed his staring eyes. Of course, they could easily have been...but most often, the best humor was found when someone assumed too much. Most knew the meaning of the word, or the lesson to learning about it - in Jim's case, well.

Assuming makes an ass out of u and me.

"Don't you think," David started, "That Jim cares that you want tuna in your sandwich?"

Kevin knew he could, and should play along because...well...it was fun. He was never the type to turn down a good laugh, ever.

He kept his sapphire colored sight concentrated on that fuming face as he replied, "...maybe with mayonnaise?"

David wondered if he would be disappointed when he said, "...We have Miracle Whip."

But he wasn't the least bit. "That works."

And it was, when Jim was close to fidgeting. Surely he was already twitching one lashed lid.

David shifted his own eyes towards the ebony man before removing them to look _really_ suspicious.

"Wheat or white?"

African Americans or just people in particular caught certain words of color - such as black or the mentioned white - to be racial remarks. Little did the even littler brain of Jim's consider that his friends were talking about bread. Not a second after their words caused him to jump up and butt his big head - which was surprisingly large for his small, lanky body, between Kevin and David's faces.

"You talkin' about a brutha!"

They told the truth to the black man. After that, whispers still remained - more serious, light, and just as easy even in the darkness of the night.

Where there was sibilant speech, the breech of a body, soft sounds of skin sliding, two riding together, hiding their share of heaven between them, belonging to David and Kevin in a kiss, there was love.

**X-ray**

n. Light that is so blue humans cannot see it. A band of the spectrum between the ultraviolet and the gamma ray.

When the time came, it was torture.

Sometimes it occurred when he remembered too much. During others, David couldn't recall enough. It was as if a demon had manifested itself within him, rising only to ride him to the edge and back, again and again of pain until the breaking point was reached. And still, after that, it pushed him.

Kevin kept him from shattering, from scattering himself like the tears that took to his face that was collapsed in the expression as though the ache was asphyxiating. His body couldn't breathe, couldn't conceive how much he hurt and, exactly, why.

True blue eyes always watched him, watched after him. Either against a back, or bared front, most often, fragile face, Kevin was someplace near, sometimes inside. When he was, he forced those shadows from their places where they spied from the corners of his consciousness in an attempt to hide.

They ran when Kevin came. When his hero, their killer approached, body bared and affectionate when it touched him, took him, gave him kisses that shook him, with whispers…

"I'm here now. Let it go…"

Rocking, silent sobs, salty droplets on pale and dark skin shadowed by the night. The world was even darker as David was turned, taken by two digits that chased the demons and created something sensational, elation, elevation to bring David back up again.

A stack of bodies, the rustle of sheets, the rub of skin and the rush of Kevin above him released everything in the rush of cathartic emotion that engulfs them both together, that warmed the little David in big David's heart.

And then, when everything was over, when he could taste Kevin on his tongue and embrace heaven...it happened. Words were spoken, said with sincerity yet if they had been unspoken, undeclared, both men would have still understood.

"You see right through me…"

**Yawn**

v. Open the mouth wide and inhale esp. in sleepiness or boredom; (of chasm etc.) gape, be wide open.

"Jesus!" David groaned, as a blast of hot morning breath hit him full in the face. He shoved a hand against Kevin's cheek and turned him away.

"Go yawn at someone else, asshole."

"What? Anyway, there's no one else here. Which is why I'm here..."

Beneath the covers, cold fingers slipped into the front of David's shorts. He rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. "You wake up too damned energetic. Go back to sleep."

"But I'm very much awake," Kevin told him, pressing against his back.

"I ought to give you fucking sleeping pills..."

A flex of digits deep down. A glide and slide of fingers along tingling skin, circling round and round.

Silver glared at Kevin before collapsing at the sight of sapphire, on and owning him.

So David surrendered, just slightly, still believing he had any say in what went on at all since his submission. "Oh, fine. Fine. Just get it over with."

But Kevin always took his time.

**Zero**

n. Figure 0, nought; point on scale of thermometer etc. from which positive or negative quantity is reckoned.

Was it true that two polar opposite people could attract? The men acted as magnets, moving together in stride, in sex, and even easy sleep.

Indeed, they were polar…or David was, feeling frozen like ice while Kevin was more than just warm. The man was a furnace, full of fire. In fact, Kevin held the hottest flame of them all in the ignited burning blue inside his expressive, impressive eyes.

Copper against cream colored complexion, David cuddled close to the broad body burning against his back spooned comfortably there. As he did so slowly, he could feel the calves of his long thin legs twine with those two others that were thicker, covered in crisp hair of Kevin's that brushed the backs of David's sensitive knees. He shifted, lifted their limbs closer towards his chest, desperate to capture any heat between their two resting bodies.

David couldn't help but try to warm his feet that felt frozen and mostly likely were as he moved without the sensation of soft fabric sheets sliding against them and ankles. Yeah, he felt like the North Pole, nearly numbed to death. Kevin, on the other hand, seemed hypersensitive the second the low-temperature, liquid nitrogen soles – nearly zero Kelvin degrees – came into contact with his densely muscled limbs.

It took all of the wider and whiter individuals strength not to kick with spontaneous instinct or natural reaction. On one elbow, Kevin raised his huge body to look down at David who appeared apologetic – and was.

"Shit, sorry."

He did jerk himself away from David because of the sudden shock, shifting back finally as he brushed one soft hand down that dark silken hair slowly. "Man, your feet are frozen as the god damn ice in Antarctica. Hell, maybe the woolly mammoth from the ice age."

David couldn't help but say it, earning a chuckle from himself and a dead pan, nearly disgusted look from Kevin.

"Nah, that would be you. You're the one with the fuzzy feet and you're ancient."

There was the snicker as, in the dark, the sound of a pillow coming into contact with a plumber's head was heard. Hair fluttered and fell like the two faces that came to touch as Kevin collected David against him in his arms to share a sweet kiss with him.

When they pulled apart, Kevin passed a hand through his lover's longer hair again.

He asked, "Are you cold now?"

In hopes of getting a second kiss, David put a finger to his lips and tapped it as if in thought, as well as invitation. "Hmm…maybe."

Foreheads touched as arms moved with fingers meeting behind each others backs before legs locked together again, eyelids lowering, already half asleep.

When Kevin spoke, his breath brushed David's face and hair. It sifted and lifted like fingers through it as words did in the dark. Perhaps the plumber could have teased if he wasn't so completely happy.

"...No, you're not. Not when you're with me."


End file.
